Chapter 15
Dawson Rhinehart stood on his back porch, surveying the yard with a critical eye.
The January sun beat down with surprising warmth, a welcome reprieve after weeks of bitter cold and biting wind that had kept everyone hunkered down and watching the sky for a break.
The temperature had climbed into the mid-sixties, and while Dawson knew better than to trust Panhandle weather, he was grateful for the break.
“The tables look good, baby. Thank you.” Caroline stepped beside him with Bronco—the star of today’s show—balanced on her hip.
Their youngest, who turned one today, wore a ridiculous cowboy hat that kept sliding down over his eyes, and he kept pushing it back up with chubby fingers, giggling every time.
“Do you think we have enough seating?” Dawson asked, counting the mismatched collection of folding tables and chairs they’d borrowed from his parents, Zona and Duke, or Shiloh Ridge.
“We never do.” Caroline grinned at him and took the cowboy hat from Bronco. “But we’ll be fine. The house will be open too.”
“Like a revolving door,” Dawson muttered, though he loved having his friends and family over to his house. He took the cowboy hat from his wife and placed it just-so on his son’s head. “There you go, buddy.”
“Da-da-dad,” Bronco babbled, then lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Dawson’s shirt.
With adrenaline pumping through him, he quickly grabbed onto his son. With Bronco settled securely in his arms, Dawson kissed the top of his son’s head, breathing in that sweet baby smell mixed with the outdoor air.
“Well, I’m going to start getting out the sandwich stuff,” Caroline said. “April just texted me that she’s on the way.” She nudged Dawson with her hip. “And she’s bringing her boyfriend, and she wants you to be nice.”
Dawson scoffed. “I’m always nice. Did you tell her that?”
“I tried,” Caroline said with a grin as she backed up. “She really wants you to like Louis.”
“I’m not going to like anyone who goes out with her,” he said. “She’s still ten years old in my mind and shouldn’t even have a boyfriend.”
Caroline giggled as she went back into the house, and Bronco wiggled to get down. Dawson set him on his feet and secured his hand in his boy’s, then turned to follow his wife, albeit at a much slower pace.
The truth was, April had turned twenty-one a few months ago, and she could date anyone she wanted. Heck, Dawson knew girls who’d gotten married before age twenty-one, and his heart did a backward somersault.
She and Shiloh lived in the old cabin he and Brandon had once shared, and Duke and Zona had started talking about building another cabin for their boys. None of their kids wanted to leave the Rhinehart Ranch, and right now, their oldest son, Dwayne, lived with Dawson’s parents.
His daddy had gotten really advanced in his age, and he barely left the house anymore.
Dawson helped Bronco over the lip and into the house, where the little boy collapsed back to his hands and knees and crawled rapidly toward the kitchen.
“I’m going to go pick up my momma and daddy,” he said.
“Okay,” Caroline said, and Dawson pressed his lips to his wife’s cheek before he left the house and got behind the wheel of his truck.
“Thank You, Lord, for sparing my father as long as You have.” His chest turned tight, like someone had wrapped a thick rubber band around him and kept twisting and twisting.
“But it’ll be okay—we’ll all be okay—if You take him home.” He pulled up to his parents’ house and found Dwayne steadying his grandfather as they left the house.
Dawson swung out of the truck, calling, “Hey, you two.”
“Hey, Uncle Daws.” Dwayne grinned at him, but he didn’t let go of his grandpa’s arm.
Dawson jogged down the sidewalk and shored up his father on his other side. “I was comin’, Daddy.”
“I know,” he said, his voice low and cracked like an old cement driveway. “It just takes me a minute to get moving, and I didn’t want you to be waitin’.”
Dawson kept a steady hand on his father’s forearm. “Is Momma coming?”
“My mom is coming to get her,” Dwayne said. “She has a few laundry baskets of chips.”
Dawson’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t say anything.
He’d learned long ago to let his sister-in-law, his mother, and his wife plan the parties however they wanted to.
He knew they wouldn’t run out of food, and he appreciated all the work they did to celebrate him, his children, this ranch, and everyone he loved.
“Let me get the steps, Daddy.”
“I can do it,” his father said.
But he couldn’t, and Dawson met Dwayne’s eye, then released his father and hurried ahead of them to get the single step out of the back of the truck. It made getting up and into the pickup truck easier by lowering the step by half.
He opened the passenger door and positioned the step just as his daddy’s boots met the gravel he’d parked on.
“There you go, Grandpa,” Dwayne said. “He’s already got it ready for you, and you won’t have to trip the way I always do.”
Daddy said nothing, but he did get a good hold on the door handle with one hand and the frame of the truck with the other before lifting his leg.
He only had to lift it about six inches, which he did just fine.
Another step to the runner, then another into the truck, and his daddy groaned as he finally collapsed into the seat.
“There you go,” Dawson said, and he pulled the step back and let Dwayne close the door.
“I tried to tell ‘im you were almost here,” Dwayne said.
He gave his nephew a smile. “Well, my daddy is the most stubborn man you’ll ever meet.”
Dwayne grinned at him. “Must be where my daddy gets it from.”
Dawson laughed, because Duke was surlier than him, and yes, extremely stubborn. He rounded the truck while Dwayne climbed in the backseat, and together, the three of them made the trip back to Dawson’s house, only about seven minutes down the road and still on the family ranch.
A few more trucks had arrived, but they’d left his driveway open for him.
Thankfully. Dawson didn’t even want to think about what his father would say if they hadn’t.
He pulled up behind Caroline’s minivan, and he felt like a superhero who could move faster than the speed of sound, because he managed to retrieve the step and put it in place before his father was ready to get out.
“We’re just in the backyard, Daddy,” Dawson said. “Or Caroline will have a place for you inside.”
“Ah, the sun is out today,” he said. “I want to sit outside.”
Dawson nodded to Dwayne, who detoured up the front sidewalk, took the steps to the porch two at a time, and disappeared into the house through the front door. Dawson stayed with his father, moving even slower than he did with his one-year-old who’d just taken his first step last week.
But they finally made it through the garage and out the back door, which led straight out to the yard.
If Daddy wanted to go up on the deck, he’d have to navigate stairs, but by the time Dawson got him over the cobblestone path and past the deck to the yard, he found Dwayne waiting by the zero-gravity chair next to Daddy’s favorite flowerbed.
“Right there, Daddy,” Dawson said, the sound of laughter ringing out from the house. He should be inside to greet his friends, but he kept the snail’s pace with his father, balancing him as he stepped over the bar at the bottom of the chair and sank into it.
He groaned all over again, and Dwayne bent to help him get his chair reclined. “I’ll go get you something to eat, Grandpa.”
“Thank you, Dwayne.” Daddy patted his hand. “You’re a good boy.”
Dwayne led the way up the steps and across the deck to the back sliding door, and Dawson simply followed him. Inside, he found April had arrived with her boyfriend, and they stood in the kitchen helping Caroline lay out all the sandwich fixings.
The other truck that had been outside belonged to Link Glover, and Dawson smiled at his best friend—at least the one who he didn’t share any DNA with.
“Howdy, Lincoln.” Dawson pulled the taller man into a quick one-armed hug. “No wife and kids?”
“They’re here,” Link said. “Caroline said you guys had some snakes out by the back fence, and my boys think snakes are pets.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I put Meadow down for her nap on your bed.”
“Howdy-ho,” someone called. “We’re walkin’ in.”
The clamoring of little-girl voices filled the air, and Dawson didn’t have to look to know Wilder, Savannah, and her twins had just arrived.
“Here we go,” April said dryly. “Once the Glovers start arriving, it’s like opening the floodgates.” She flashed a smile at Dawson. “Uncle Dawson, do you remember Louis? He came to our family New Year’s Eve-Eve party.”
“Of course I do.” Dawson put a smile on his face. “It’s good to see you again, Louis.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said, and he focused on laying out the baby carrots just-so on the veggie tray before looking up.
He smiled back at Dawson, who could admit he liked the young man.
Louis Fairchild had a good family from here in Three Rivers—his daddy ran a pharmacy on Main Street downtown and his mother showed huskies in dog tournaments around the state.
She also worked with the pet adoption agency in town, and Dawson had known his family for years. Louis seemed to be the sunshiney part of him and April, who still got hot around the collar pretty quickly, though she’d learned how to channel her spirit and energy in the right direction.
And how to hold her tongue.
“So, what’s goin’ on with you two?” he asked, reaching for a length of celery. “Babes, can you get me the peanut butter?”
“Nope,” Caroline said. “If I get out the peanut butter, then everyone wants it, and it’s a veggie tray, Daws.” She gave him a smile, because they’d had this conversation before.
“It’s my house,” he said.
“And my party.” His wife passed a dripping container of strawberries to April, who looked at her and then Dawson, her eyes wide.